


dim the lights some, whisky lemon

by dorothymcshane



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 14:58:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7319842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorothymcshane/pseuds/dorothymcshane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>”Shut up, Oswald.”<br/>”Make me.”<br/>In response he turns her around and pins her to the shelf. She gasps, unprepared for losing her control over him so abruptly, and more than a little turned on.<br/>”My pleasure,” he says, his voice seductively husky, and slides her skirt up to place a hand between her legs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dim the lights some, whisky lemon

”English lit.”

   Clara looks up from the wallet that she’s currently rummaging through in search of her bank card. ”Huh?”

   ”I presume that’s what you’re studying,” the man behind the counter says.

   She tilts her head to the side. ”And what makes you think that?”

   ”The dress, for a start. Makes you look like the spitting image of my own professor back in the days.”

   ”Thanks for the compliment,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

   A corner of the man’s mouth turns up. ”I had a crush on her.”

   ”Great for you.”

   ”Also, the books,” he continues. ”The Divine Comedy. As I Lay Dying. Paradise Lost. To the Lighthouse. Typical assigned reading. Am I right?”

   ”Computer science,” Clara lies, annoyed at the arrogance he presents his assumptions with. ”Would it be possible for me to get to pay before the end of this century?”

   ”Computer science,” the man says as he takes her bank card. ”At least you’re creative with your lies. Your pin code?”

   She presses the buttons on the console while keeping her gaze focused on the man. ”Here’s some news for you: it’s fully possible for women to wear pretty dresses and be interested in programming.”

   ”Darling, I don’t doubt your coding skills,” the man says. ”But unless I’m mistaken and you’re not Clara Oswald, I’ve read your personal statement.”

   ”As far as I can remember, I didn’t include a photo.”

   He shrugs. ”What can I say, I’ve done my research.”

   ”Clearly,” she says, grabbing her books and the bank card and turning around, preparing to leave the bookshop.

   ”It was the best personal statement I’ve read in years,” the man says. ”Can you blame me for being curious about the genius behind it?”

   Clara doesn’t turn around, but what can she say, she’s always been a sucker for praise. ”Genius, now there’s a word I like.”

   ”I bet you do.”

   ”I don’t think flirting with your students is allowed.”

   ”Lucky I’m not a professor, then.”

   ”So who exactly _are_ you?”

   ”People call me the Doctor.”

   ”Kinky.”

   ”I have my moments.”

   ”I bet you do,” Clara echoes his words from before.

   ”I’ve got lunch in twenty minutes.”

   ”Was that an invite?”

   ”Would you say yes if it were?”

   For some reason, Clara doesn’t tell him to keep on dreaming, but actually considers his question. ”I’ll come back tomorrow. Ask me again then.”

   ”Why?”

   ”Because tomorrow I might say yes,” she says. ”Sometime after seven okay for you?”

   ”Any time’s okay.”

   ”See you then.”

 

 

When Clara returns the next day, she quietly confirms one thing to herself: the Doctor’s just as good-looking as in her memories. He’s probably over fifty, but then again, she’s always had a thing for older men.

   ”Well, look who’s here,” he greets her, looking up from the book he’s reading.

   ”I keep my promises,” she says, crossing the floor to sit down right in front of him on the counter. ”Tell me one thing, Doctor.”

   ”What do you want to know?”

   ”How come you read my essay?”

   ”The truth might change your perception of me,” he warns her.

   ”Better tell me quickly then.”

   ”My wife worked as an English professor here.”

   ”Your wife,” Clara echoes with her gaze focused on his face.

   ”Technically I suppose she’s my ex-wife,” he says.

   ”But you’re still in love with her and don’t want me to mistake this for anything that it isn’t, I get you, and trust me, I wasn’t intending to fall in love with …”

   ”She died,” he interrupts her.

   Clara doesn’t know how to react to that, so at last, she just lets out a simple ”oh”.

   ”Don’t bother with showing sympathy,” the Doctor says. ”I’ve had enough of sympathy to last a lifetime during the past few months.”

   She nods, all too familiar with the feeling even though it’s been several years since her mum passed away. ”No sympathy, got it.”

   ”So, would you say yes if it were?”

   The question confuses Clara for a second before she realises that he’s referring to their first conversation. She glances down at her legs while contemplating it all. In response to his comment about the dress yesterday she’s wearing her shortest skirt paired with a see-through leopard shirt in black and white. Usually she’d throw a blazer over it to look more respectable, but after all, she’s not at the bookshop to be respected, she’s there to be fucked until she can’t think straight.

   ”Do you do it often?” she asks the Doctor. ”Chat up random customers?”

   ”Trust me, I’m far too selective for that, and seeing as intellect usually is what turns me on, one-night stands aren’t exactly my cup of tea.”

   ”But I met your requirements.”

   ”Do you want a written certificate?”

   ”Thanks for the offer, but I think I can manage without it.”

   ”Your loss,” the Doctor says. ”I’ve heard it’s great to have on your CV.”

   ”At least you’re not lacking in self-confidence.”

   The corners of his mouth curve up. ”At least.”

   Clara swings her legs over the counter so that she’s facing him. He’s so tall that they’re almost the same height even though he’s sitting on a chair and she on the table.

   ”I like your beard,” she says, stroking a finger across his cheek.

   He doesn’t reply, he just places his hands around her neck, bending her head down until their lips are so close to each other that she can feel his breaths against her skin.

   ”Yes,” she whispers, biting his lip softly before breaking apart from him again in order to be able to continue. ”I would say yes.”

   And with that, he kisses her properly. She shivers as their tongues meet. There’s something about the way they’re discovering each other’s mouths that makes her feel as if they’re simultaneously discovering the entire act of kissing. Keeping her eyes closed, she moves her hands up to his hair, tangling her fingers into the grey locks. He cups her cheeks with his hands, pulling her even closer, and they’re both breathing heavily.

   ”We should probably go somewhere else,” Clara says, her voice unsteady.

   ”I rarely get any customers anymore,” the Doctor says. ”The wonderful impact of the Internet, you know.”

   ”Still, I might have my fair shair of kinks, but sex in public is not one of them.”

   ”Fair enough,” he says, moving his hands down to her waist to lift her up from the counter.

   She can’t help but laugh, wrapping her legs around his hips. ”What a gentleman.”

   ”Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m afraid you wouldn’t say that if you took a look into my brain right now,” he says as he carries her through the bookshop, locking the front door. ”Happy?”

   ”Yeah,” Clara mumbles, burying her face into his neck and stroking her tongue across his skin. She can hear his breath stutter as she kisses his neck more intensely. 

   He lets her back down to the floor behind one of the shelves so that they’re hidden from sight between them. She reaches up on her tiptoes to tease him by biting his lower lip before kissing him again. As their tongues reunite, she can feel his erection against her belly. She enjoys the feeling more than she should, the power in knowing that she’s responsible for the state he’s in. 

   With a crooked smile on her face she drops to her knees and unzips his jeans.

   ”Come here,” she orders him, and he obeys, leaning his back against the bookshelf. She slides his underwear down over his bony hips and lets her tongue slide along the length of his cock. Teasingly, she kisses the tip of it while stroking a thumb across the skin on the inside of one of his hips. The paleness of it makes him appear strangely fragile. Breakable. It turns her on in ways it probably shouldn’t.

   ”Bossy, are you?” the Doctor breathes.

   ”Occasionally,” she says before taking him into her mouth. He swears quietly as she moves her head back and forth, taking him deeper each time until she can feel her gag reflex protest. She keeps him right there for a few seconds, focusing on breathing through her nose, before continuing to suck him off.

   She stops before he comes, and he kisses her on the lips when she’s gotten back up on her feet. She keeps a hand around his cock, slowly jerking him off as their kisses deepen.

   ”You’re too damn short,” he tells her as he leans his head down in an attempt to kiss her neck.

   ”Or maybe you should consider the possiblity of that you might be the one who’s too tall.”

   ”Touché,” he says as he lifts her up again, burying his face into her neck. She’s always been weak for neck kisses and a moan escapes her lips as he sucks on a particularly sensitive spot.

   ”You’re the worst shopkeeper ever, aren’t you?” she says, rubbing her hips against his in a very deliberate motion. ”What if some poor customer is standing outside right now, scratching their chin and wondering why the shop is closed when the opening hours clearly state that it should be open?”

   He bites her earlobe softly. ”Poor bastard, indeed.”

   ”So compassionate.”

   ”Shut up, Oswald.”

   ”Make me.”

   In response he turns her around and pins her to the shelf. She gasps, unprepared for losing her control over him so abruptly, and more than a little turned on.

   ”My pleasure,” he says, his voice seductively husky, and slides her skirt up to place a hand between her legs. She shivers as he strokes a finger across the fabric of her underwear. Feeling the arousal rush through her veins, she instinctively leans her head back and closes her eyes.

   He shoves the fabric to the side, sliding a finger down beneath it, slowly moving it back and forth over her clit. Her breaths are getting more and more uneven and she has to bite her lip to keep herself from moaning. A little more roughly, he slips the finger into the slit between her legs. She’s dripping wet, she can feel it, and it doesn’t come as a surprise to her when he holds up the finger and licks it demonstratively.

   ”Taste good?” she manages to ask him, the tone of her voice teasing.

   ”Like salt and sweat,” he replies. ”Precisely what I like about sex.”

   She reaches up on her tiptoes to place her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his so that she can feel his erection properly. ”Right now all I can think about is you inside of me.”

   ”I’m not complaining about that suggestion.”

   ”Yeah?”

   ”Come here,” he tells her, taking her hand and leading her to the table at the back of the shelves. In an elegant motion he shoves the books on it to the floor and then bends her over it. With a sharp intake of breath, she lets him pull down her knickers. She’s always enjoyed the sensation of being fucked from behind, letting her partners take control of the mechanics and the pace, leaving her to be able to focus on enjoying herself.

   The Doctor guides himself into her until his hip bones touch her skin. He slowly moves himself back and forth a couple of times, giving her time to get used to the feeling of him inside of her. She’s breathing heavily, her cheek pressed against the table.

   ”You okay?” he asks her.

   ”Never been better,” she promises him.

   He increases the pace of his thrusts, hitting her in the exact right spot, and she moans, begging him not to stop. He doesn’t, but grabs her hips harder, scraping her skin with his nails. It’s rough, and it’s desperate, and it’s painfully, achingly hot.

   He comes before her, and she turns around so that she faces him. His sperm drips all over the table from her vagina, but she can’t be bothered to care about it, lost in a haze of arousal.

   She places a finger on her clit, but he grabs her wrists to pin her hands against the table. Without saying anything, he spreads her thighs and bends down to place his head between them. Clara sends her thanks to both god and jesus as he leaves a trail of kisses from her belly button down to her clit. He circles it with his tongue, teasing her by occasionally moving it further down, alternating between feather-light touches and applying more pressure. It’s almost unbearable, considering that Clara’s already close to coming, and when the orgasm finally hits her she moans out loud, instinctively grinding against his face.

   They stay frozen for seconds, possibly minutes, the silence in the bookshop only broken by their breaths.

   ”Well,” Clara finally says, placing a couple of stray hairs behind her ear. ”I’ve had worse shags.”

   ”What a compliment,” the Doctor replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

   She pokes his hip with a finger in response.

   ”So,” he says, ”will you be busy with your studies or would you like to grab dinner sometime?”

   ”Dinner sounds lovely,” she says without needing to take a moment of hesitation. It’s rare for her to run into people that she not only enjoys chatting to but also feels attracted to, so she might as well take advantage of it.

   ”Dinner it is, then.”

   ”Now, where the hell are my knickers?”

   ”Right here,” the Doctor says, bending down to grab them from the floor. He’s already zipped up his jeans, and while she makes an effort to make herself look respectable again, he absent-mindedly runs a hand through his hair, looking beautifully dishevelled with rosy cheeks.

   Clara reaches up on her tiptoes to kiss him goodbye, lingering with her lips on his for a second too long for it to be possible to pass it off as casual, and then crosses the floor towards the door. Without turning around, she raises a hand in a wave, feeling his gaze on her back.

   ”You know where to find me,” he shouts after her.

   ”Sure do,” she replies, and then she leaves the shop, letting the frosty evening air outside embrace her.


End file.
